


RWBY Shorts

by Aklya



Category: RWBY
Genre: I may have forgotten to tag ships, oh well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-02 11:41:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14543970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aklya/pseuds/Aklya
Summary: This is mostly edited versions of the pieces I've done for Writing Prompt Wednesday on the subreddit, though there will be a few shorts here and there that are new to this.





	1. WPW 64

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 333: Blake and Yang are about to finish off Adam, only to be stopped by the most unlikely of people. Submitted by /u/GTACOD

Blake spat the coppery taste from her mouth, amber eyes colder than Atlesian winters as she studied the man before her. Adam had changed since she had left, since the Fall of Beacon. No longer was he proud, tall, demanding. No longer was he the intimidating juggernaut she had lost to in Vale. She had grown since then. She had learned. Adam had given her a furnace, a trial by fire. And she had come out stronger. They had come out stronger. Yang rushed past her, fist drawn back for another blow as the bull began to recover. It was good to be back with her team again. She had missed Yang’s energy. As her partner’s metal arm cracked against Adam’s arm, she saw the blade recoil. He was preparing. “Yang, now!” The words tore from her, and almost instantly, the blonde fired her weapon into the ground, flying backward as Wilt flashed through the space she had been moments before.’

“Thanks.” Yang commented, the word coming out in a short gasp. She was pushing herself harder than she should. Quietly, her hand wrapped around her friend’s shoulder. A quiet squeeze and it was gone again. Yang’s crimson eyes never left the man as he looked up at them. She remembered the warm green eyes behind that mask, as she stared into them on long nights. Part of her wondered if they’d ever be that warm again.

“That’s what you left me for?” His voice trembled with disgust and rage. The raven-haired girl flinched, and he smiled. “Some bimbo with anger issues and a low cut top?” Yang’s anger flared, but before she could act, Blake charged him. He wouldn’t hurt Yang this time. She wouldn’t let him. Wilt’s blade crashed against Gambol Shroud, the ringing filling the room as they fought. “I never had a chance, did I?” Hints of regret filled his voice. All this anger, this spite, it all came down to her in the end. It was almost pathetic.

“That’s the sad part, Adam.” Her voice was soft, the way it used to be. The way his used to be. Before he grew hard, and she left. She stepped aside as Yang swung, letting Adam take her fist square in the jaw. His body crackled with red energy. No more Aura. “You did once.” She kicked him, square in the chest, the blow sending the man sprawling. Hands clenched into fists. After so long, she’d done it. She’d beaten him. Now there was only one thing left to do.

She had to make sure he couldn’t come after her again.

Gambol Shroud turned in her hand, the blade pointed down, pointed to the black heart in Adam’s chest. Kicking away his weapon, she stared down at him, her head leaning to one side. Yang was silent. If she was going to stop her, she would have to say something. “Do... it.” Adam forced out, each word rasping. She must have hit him harder than she thought. A cough escaped him, and the crimson spray of vitae ruptured from his lips. “It can’t be worse than losing you. Especially to her.” She thrust downwards, letting the blade sink into him...

It stopped on something hard.

She looked down, stared at the red and gold staff blocking her. “Sun.” The word was flat, even. Behind her, she heard Ember Celica cock and Yang’s footfalls. “Go away.”

“I won’t let you do this, Blake.” There was fear in his voice, enough to make her pause. “I won’t let you become this.”

“You don’t understand!” Her voice, wrathful like all the fires of hell, surprised even her. “He won’t stop trying to hurt me! To kill me! To kill all of us! I have to do this.” She returned her gaze to Adam. “Not just for me. For everyone I care about.” Yang stiffened. “I can’t let him try again.” A hand gripped her shoulder. Metal fingers, still shaking slightly from battle, tightened on her shoulder.

“And you think killing him is the answer? He’s beaten, Blake.” Another cough escaped Adam. More blood escaped his lips. “I won’t pretend to understand the amount of pain he’s caused you. But if you kill him, you’re no better than he is.”

“How DARE YOU!” Yang swung, and Sun backed away, catching the blow on his staff. “AFTER EVERYTHING HE’S DONE TO HER, TO ME, TO ALL OF US, YOU HAVE THE GALL TO SAY THAT?” Her yelling was loud enough that, at first, she missed Adam chuckling. She stepped away, knelt down, picking up Wilt and Bloom. Staring at that mask, white and red, she spoke.

“He’s right.” Yang froze, looking confused. “I can’t kill him. No matter how much I want to.” Slowly, her hand grabbed the mask, pulling it off his face. She stared into those deep green eyes, glazed over from the pain. Would he have been better if she had stayed? Would he still have worked with Cinder? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t change it. “Goodbye, Adam.” She whispered, slowly standing. “It’s time I finally moved on.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A woman in a white carved mask and black jumpsuit entered the darkened room. Her mission had been a success. Infiltrate the enemy base, gather all the intel she could, meet up with the evac team. Well, she hadn’t quite made it to that last part, but there was something more... personal she had to deal with first. They had left him alive. Idiots. She rushed to his side. He wasn’t badly injured. They could still save him.

“Illia?” He asked, his voice croaking.

“Hello, Adam.” Flat words followed his. “I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time.” Her hand moved, quickly, plunging her sword into his heart. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe they would make him a martyr. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be hurting Blake anymore.


	2. WPW 65

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: One of the villain's diaries is found after the Fall of Beacon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the one I was least comfortable posting originally, and still feel like it wasn't my place to pen it. I don't know what it's like to be in an abusive relationship, and I hope I never learn. But at the same time, I saw the prompt and my mind went to this. Sometimes writing gets away from you, and all you can do is hope it works out in the end.

The pages were stained with blood, the cover burned clean off, but as she looked at the black lettering, the sketches done in heavy pencil lines, the red and white pattern of a rose among thorns on the back... It had to be his. No doubt the same one she’d made all those years ago, sewn and hidden with a joy and a love she'd watched dull and fade with time. His old one, a leather-bound tome that overflowed with beautiful words, rousing speeches, and the ramblings of a man who stood against the world, was more than falling apart, but he still stubbornly refused to simply buy a new one. She had admired that trait, and the old thing's contents then, when she had made it. The stitching, silver lines forming the inlay, had been difficult, almost impossible with their life on the move. It still looked crude. He’d seemed hurt when she’d stalled for time, when she wanting it to be perfect. She remembered Illia asking him about a mission, trying to give her enough time to get it done. But he’d been happy the night she gave it to him. That she knew, because when he was happy, she could be too.

That’s how it had been. She tried desperately to keep him happy, to make sure he wasn’t upset, that he wasn’t mad. She had loved him. Maybe, just maybe, he had felt the same. She shook her head, raven black hair tossing as she did. She couldn’t change the past. Adam had made his place clear. A place where no Faunus had to fear oppression, because they were the ones in control. Because they would become the very thing they fought against. Did he even see his own hypocrisy? She doubted it, and even so he wouldn’t listen to her now, anyway. He never really had.

The book turned in her hand. Charred and soiled, the first few pages were hard to read. He’d done drawings, some maps and symbols. Information on the missions. She thought she made out an armored figure and the SDC logo. The next page talked of the speed and timing they’d need to pull it off. She turned it again. The train job. The day she’d left. Another page, another mission note. Another scrawled plan. And then, it stared up at her.

Her own face, wrought from lead and far more innocent than the woman on the boat, stared up at her. The caption was simple. _My Blake_. It started to creep into her vision, the pale spectre of sorrow. The first drops leaked from her, but she couldn’t stop. The next page seemed his thoughts, blurred by pain and tears.

_Normally, I wouldn’t even consider this mission possible. We’d have to smuggle someone on at a station, get them to sabotage the thing, take it out that way. But Blake and I, we’re something else. Our love, that bond we’ve shared for so long, makes me think we can pull this off. She’s grown exceptionally fast in the last few months. Sienna will be impressed. I know it._

She’d spent so long seeking his praise, but seeing it in writing, in his hand, made her almost feel sorry for leaving. But she had to. She couldn’t be the monster he was. Couldn't stand for what he did. Couldn't stay his pet.

_She tries so hard to impress me. So desperate for approval after abandoning her family to stay with us, with the cause. I’m proud of what she’s becoming, but she cannot know. As long as she craves that praise, I can deny it, push her to be better, push her to want it more. And maybe, with enough time, she won’t hesitate anymore. Then, we can make the ones who put us down pay. We will make them all pay_

He had known, the manipulative bastard! The journal left her hands, slamming into the far wall with a loud thud. Her whole body shook. He’d used her, made her want more, kept her desperate for praise, for affection. Even as she remembered so many happy nights, her mind called even that small joy into question. How much of that had simply been to keep her there? Had he ever loved her?

“Blake?” Illia’s voice was quiet as the Chameleon knocked on the cabin’s door. She curled up, her back to the door. “Are you okay?” The deluge of tears held her now, racking her body with sobs. She’d been so stupid. As the quiet creak of the door opened, she didn’t turn. The tears refused to stop, to let her speak. The bed shifted, slightly, as a warm hand settled on her back. The other woman’s eyes found the book.

“You...” the words came, barely, through pained gasps. “You were right.” Illia’s hand slid up, slipping across her top and wrapping around her shoulder. Blake simply pulled herself tighter. “I should have listened.” The other girl said nothing, didn’t know how to respond. Blake didn’t blame her. After what felt like an eternity in silence, the other girl retreated. She was alone. She still saw the drawing of her when she closed her eyes. My Blake. He had owned her. My Blake. In a way she still did. As she wept, her brain too exhausted to stay awake, she wondered if she’d ever be free of him.


End file.
